Fantastic
by Zamelot
Summary: Bored and unmotivated, a young Rose Tyler finds her afternoon suddenly interesting when a big eared man hands her a magical book.


I wrote this soon after _Brilliant_ because I was in love with the idea of Nine meeting a young Rose. Enormous, Moffat-like plot holes ensue if Nine actually had met a young Rose, so obviously not possible. But fun to write. Just a little something. More character study than anything. Enjoy!

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_Fantastic_

Rose Tyler, aged 9 1/2 soon to be 10, had been sitting outside the market waiting for her mother and literally twiddling her thumbs for what felt like several hours. Her bag containing a history on heraldry and a dreaded hardcover on the workings of the Universe (the fun facts!) weighed in her lap. Her mum had told her to wait and catch up on reading so she would not have to stay after school next week with Ms. Mar to go over the day's lessons.

Rose stared across the street where Ms. Mar stood at the curb with a dark haired fellow whose loud, American voice made it through in sounds to her from over the racing trucks and honking cars. He kept stealing looks at her between gaps in fish trucks and taxi cabs. Rose assumed that he had not noticed that she had noticed by the way he kept doing it.

A late summer's breeze lifted the edge of Ms. Mar's sailor dress collar and blew her wild hair into the man's face. He spluttered then laughed, putting an arm around her and led her off down the street. Rose dragged her gaze away from their retreating forms that reminded her of the cover of one of her dad's old Bob Dylan records and began to watch two children she recognized from school.

They were perhaps a year or so younger than her and friends with one of the more troublesome girls in school. Rose smiled as the red haired girl stomped her foot when the boy tripped over the length of his trousers. She knelt down and rolled them up then motioned for him to tighten his belt. The boy jumped to her orders and pulled at his collar, sweat matting his light hair, the tie around his neck poorly made. In his left hand he clutched at a plastic figurine of a centurion and chased the girl down the sidewalk.

Rose looked down into her lap, considering the books hidden in her bag with their bent pages and creased covers. Her summer school teacher had assigned readings for the weekend but Rose could not bring herself to start them. She lowered the bag to the ground between her knees and sighed, rummaging around inside for the snack she had been told not to eat unless she was really hungry.

A shadow passed over her then, very close. The passing wind from the brisk walker hit her in the face along with the smell of leather and the sea. She looked up in time to see the hem of a green jumper and a black leather coat billowing behind the man who had nearly walked into her. Before she could make a rude face at him, he stopped, mid-step. Rose sat up straighter. The man took several steps backwards until he was standing in front of her then turned and grinned.

"Well, hello. Rose Tyler." The man had his hands behind his back. He bounced once on his heels. "Oh, a banana!" he motioned to the banana in her right hand, still half concealed from inside her bag. "Good source of potassium."

Rose raised her eyebrows and licked her lips. She opened her mouth to speak but found herself distracted by the man's large ears and long, thin nose. She was just wondering if he had the sort of nose the Egyptians would have loved to pull a brain through when the man bent down, level with her, and handed her a book.

"Picked this up not too long ago and was just wondering who to give it to."

Rose let the strap of her bag fall under the bench, the banana back inside, as she lifted both her hands to take the book from the long nosed man. It had a blank, dark green cover with edges frayed with age. There was no title and there did not seem to be an author on the spine either. She turned the book over to examine the back when the man straightened up.

"Think of the most fantastic story you've never been told," he said. "And this book will tell it. Oh, and," he took the book back and flipped to the end, ripping out the last page. Rose gasped. He grinned at her wide eyes and flushed cheeks and handed the book back to her. "Maybe when it's time for you to read the ending you won't have to anymore." His smile, though easy, suddenly seemed sad. His hand lingered on hers when she took the book back and his eyes appeared unwilling to look away.

Once the book was clutched against her chest, he ruffled her hair and continued down the street, sidestepping a stout lady not watching where she was going. Rose looked back at the book in her hands and lifted the cover. She watched, mouth dropping open again as ink seemed to rise up from the page and form the words "Property of The Library" in a skilled, gifted script, had there been a hand to pen it.

Rose snapped the book shut and jumped to her feet, looking ahead for the big eared man but found him a difficult one to place on a tourist ridden summer afternoon in London.


End file.
